Inamorta's Last Order
Inamorta's Last Order 'is a novel by SpodermanAlwaysCan, and is planned to be the first entry in the Great Southern Saga. The story covers some more mature themes, and uses dialect rhyme with cussing and foul language. I tried to keep the story accurate to Europe in the Dark Ages, as they used these words with less impact and most of the time as just part of casual conversation. '(Author's Note: THIS STORY HAS NOT BEEN ABANDONED. In fact, just finished Chapter 4, nerds!) (Lexile: 1050L) Prologue / "The Lady with a Soul of Stone" There have been trying times for man before; against the face of death and destruction; on a multitude of occasions. A fervid sun would cast upon those days, when thousands give into disease, or when a battle would set that changed the tides of war forever. The trees would thrive green with glee, and the wildlife would chirp and sing and blossom. Everything and anything you could imagine prohibited on such mournful days would occur, and all the while we would suffer in the background. Though that day- that time that ended it for all of mankind- was eerily silent, as the sun drooped just over the horizon, and the moon feared to show it’s face. Such a thing came to be known as the Norchester slaughter just hours later. July 4th, 1346, wolf-like weasel darted towards the barricades of Norchester in the midst of an uneventful evening. Black, elegant fur was strewn across their bodies like a dress, engulfing their undoubtedly fierce presence in a thick layer of organic armor. The creatures came at such a speed that the tower Archidons simply chatted amongst themselves, absolutely enthralled in whatever their minds were dabbling in. The short castle walls stood no match against the wolvish predator, and within seconds the vast hordes had crawled over the surrounding walls with ease. The archidonis drew their attention towards the creatures, initiating combat atop the castle walls. A clash of wood and teeth sunk into the ears of the townsfolk, coming out one by one to view the conflict. Soon, the ranged weapons proved ineffective at such a short range. In an attempt to hold their ground, many began to utilize their bows as blunt force objects, crunching the limbs of the several dozen wolves. Some even used their munitions, piercing the eyes of the jet black foxes by jabbing their arrow into the target with their bare hands. Still, the archidonis became far too outnumbered for a fair fight, and few remained to battle the continually growing enemy ranks. The small bundle that survived the encounter hopped from the ten foot castle wall and ran for shelter against the monsters. A few hundred wolves now stand, perched onto the surrounding walls of the city, staring down at the town of Norchester. Children cower under the tables of their family homes, being kept company by nervous wives. The bravest of husbands brandish their swords and shields, arming themselves in preparation for their arrival. The small group of Norchester’s enforcement unit guarded town hall’s front doors, holding the mayor and his family within it. Wolves, dozens of wolves begin to bark at one another, seemingly calling for a backup they certainly did not require. Minutes passed of relative silence, before a pack of wolves escorted their master atop the castle wall to view the town. The tall woman glared towards town hall, each strand of hair cooing and slithering about her scalp. A forest green cloak draped over her hourglass figure, held down by a golden collar of the upmost value. Her name was Medusa. Then they came. The wolves scurried down the height of the castle walls, invading the small town. Curious citizens were the first to lose, being ravaged and torn limb-from-limb by the creatures almost instantly. Tables and chairs slammed up against home doors, with every piece of furniture in every home being used as a barricade. Wolves tore at each door, stacking amongst the doors and windows of each building in merciless scorn. Some even sacrificed themselves, slamming their own bodies through the panes of glass to open another house of fresh blood. Medusa calmly walked among the chaos, making it over to the town hall accompanied by another pack. Her swiftness further reflected her eagerness to watch Inamorta fall at her feet, a desire that seemed to have made her all the more impatient. At the stronghold, forty wolves scoured the walls, the roof, and the doors for a way in. While homes around it fell to shambles, and as many families were torn to pieces, town hall stood strong. Lacking windows, Medusa aided the wolves in their pursuit, simply swinging the front doors open for easy entry. The guards, shocked, hid within the corner of the building, blocking Mayor Buildham and his wife with their armored bodies. Wolves flooded the room, killing multiple guards almost immediately. The remaining few stabbed at the hordes, but eventually were slain too, falling back onto the mayor. Then, the wolves stood by, waiting for their empress to enter the facility. She did, keeping her eyes sealed shut all the while. Mayor Buildham pleaded. “You- you fiends! Leave us! There are many others’ blood to take!” “Ha. See, that’s the thing Buildham… there are many more…” Medusa replied coldly. “...and they’ll all perish too.” “Medusa, please-” Medusa slipped open her eyes, petrifying the two instantly. Their jaws were open and ridged, and their bodies as cold as the night sky. Walking up to the stone corpse of Buildham, the female calmly placed her two hands onto his head, before twisting his lifeless neck off the base. Buildham’s head hit the hardwood floor with a crunch, snapping in two. “Hmm… he was always off in the head, I suppose.” And with her remark, Norchester went silent. Chapter 1 / "A Man with a Theory" Hundreds of miles away, crept under the cover of a peaceful evening, the capital of the Order Empire sat among the coastline. Ships wailed into the vast harbor, as clumps of moths and other winged insects greeted their arrival. Lanterns and light-posts clash with the purple sky, hiding one dozen foreign sailors and their secretive cargo. Chatter let loose among them, occupying their time under the stars. "How's the family doin', Tom?" One cried. "We moving along quite fine, thank you." Another replied. "That ain't bad, then, not one bit." "Bet Norchester can't say the same, though." A sailor chuckled. "Not after snake lady eye'd 'em good, nosirree, you hear that she led a pack o' wolves so vast that Norchester couldn't hold 'em all in it's walls?" "First I heard of it, probably just ano'er rumor anyways." As mindless chatter often goes, conversation simmered like mist during a warm dawn. Surface-level talk was as common as the geese that defecated the sidewalks in Order, especially amongst the feeble-minded sailors and their equally intelligent comrades. In a capital as lively as the Order's, the city of Meric was one of habit and boring uniformity. Such uniform dwindles at the other end of the capital, as bickering between colonial leaders clutters the populated town hall. Drama stirs within it's contents, as the sturdy construction boomed with activity for the first time in years. Spanning ninety feet in length, every table and chair shifted in clunky procession across the tiled flooring. Dozens occupy the furniture, ignoring the plentiful ornate decorations scattered across the room's walls in favor of the topic at-hand. Aggressive occupants spit in the faces of their audience, the more pleasant taking it in silent disgust, waiting for the chance to give their humble opinion. Though the poverty-stricken sailors and the uptight citizens of the town hall were anything but similar, they both spoke of the same name that night. Medusa A. Gorgon. "The military can handle her, right?" "Military's not gonna do shit about her, let alone her army." "Not like we stand a chance against a bunch of zombies anyway..." "Nah, they can just attack when they're vulnerable, like sleeping or something." "I reckon that Arthur can just capture her genera-" "What Arthur needs to do is let off with that pig's head!" One roared among the commonroom. Two firm fists slammed onto the podium ahead of the crowds. "Alright, who said that? Which one of you idiots said that?" Corrin requested adamantly. Town Hall shutters at his voice, silencing. "Come on, woman up, which one of you said that?" The silence grows. "Well for your information; Arthur is doing all he can to keep you and your safe community happy, so if you want to run your mouth and pour gasoline on an open flame, please get the fuck out of my sight." Silence persisted for a few moments until empty conversation escaped the room once again, it's air now grown tense. Corrin stood disappointed, as once again, the Order could not please the bustling citizens of their community and their high expectations for such an empire. As the lone head left to control the mood-ridden public, the man felt his reputation and confidence crumble around him like the statue of Norchester once did just hours before. Corrin J. Blackswort was one of the wealthiest nobles in Meric, and one of the most loyal to the crown's heir. His stalky frame and short stature kept him barely visible over the rim of the podium, making his presence as a fearful force laughable to a certain extent. Making up for such a flaw was his voice, a powerful force of reckoning only pronounced by his down-to-earth sting. His heavy, patriotic charm endured audience after audience through countless hours of dedicated speeches, and no electoral candidate could keep their hands off of him. While many of these higher positions within Order were simply heritage, any election held would include countless hours of passionate speeches by Corrin, and dozens of trinkets bearing his cause's name. These days were filled with fulfillment, indulgement, and laughter a-plenty. Needless to say, today was just not one of those days. Another hour of grueling discussion passed, until the halls finally closed at the stroke of midnight. Groups of wealthy townsfolk passed through the wooden doors onto the open streets, still discussing the night's events. Children, bored and fatigued, skipped and hummed after the release from their proverbial prison cell. Soon after, the town hall's bright lights shivered, sheepishly blinked for a few moments, then died quietly. Corrin stretches, shifting himself up from his hunched position on the podium. These failed public conferences seemed to boil down into madness every time, never failing to make Corrin question his reason to attend them in the first place. Glancing at the sundial that sat on his podium, the man let a long, sleep-deprived sigh escape his lips as he pondered on the recent discussion. Alone, Corrin slipped into deep thought, careless of the danger lurking at such time of dusk. The sound extruding from the once-vibrant hall was now diminished to the ticking procession of time. How could such hatred spout from these folks? They'd be raised with high expectations, o' I know, but to insult Arthur himself? No respect for the crown anymore, I imagine.' He contemplated, ignoring all manners and proper dialect after the catastrophe he suffered at another abysmal townmeeting. Corrin musing continued well past morning, scribbling onto his notepad vigorously until the chickens cawed for the sun's rise. The man was passionate about his work, proud of it even, but his conspiracies of neighboring empires grew larger and larger as his mind slipped of age, growing more and more abstract and conceptual as time went on. Now though, not a single empire remained to converse, leaving his theories dry and shallow, just gathering more dust among Corrin's collection. Chaos wiped the slate of Inamorta clean a while ago, every other country was torn to pieces in Norchester fashion. It was only a short matter of time until the Order was next. The man began to sweat bullets, yanking off his handkerchief to wipe beads of sweat dribbling from his forehead. A conversation involving Medusa now grew heated quite quickly, as the air in the town-hall grew stuffy and tense once again. Corrin simply picked himself up, calmly went to the door, locked it behind him, and stared at the morning sun shining over the beautiful city of Meric. A man walked towards Corrin, curious. "No offense, good Blackswort, but ''what are you doing?" ''The man asked. "Enjoying life before it ends, Chuck, try it sometime." Corrin stated, continuing to stare at the sunrise. The passerby spat into the street, before placing himself next to Corrin, now sitting on the sidewalk. Chuck scratched at his sideburn, viewing the sunrise exhaustively. "So... what's the proposition?" "...hmm?" " You know what I'm saying, Corrin." "Honest, I don't." "Nobody'd be sitting around like this unless they have an idea." "I'm serious, Chuck, I don't have one." "Corrin, I know you better than anybody on this block, so no making a fool outta' me." "...Mhmm... you know Medusa, right?" "Big snake lady that engulfed Norchester? Everybody does, Cor'." "Well... she attacked ''what ''countries, again?" "First that Spearton Empire, they fell quick, then the Swordwrath and Archidonis coalition, then the Magi, why?" "...Her pattern is to eradicate a powerful place first, then the weaker one, then the strongest, right?" "...I guess-" "Well she invaded Westwind first, then tiny Norchester, and then..." "...Then a big place..." "...like a capital of an empire." "...bloody hell, Meric's next! She's gonna tear this city apart!" Every citizen on the block heard Chuck's roar, rushing for a Police Station or heading for safety under the shelter of their own homes. Chuck received several worried glances, in which he exchanged an equally petrified expression in return. The town shook with activity, shocked to hear such well-respected faces in the town tell of Meric's soon destruction. A seemingly spoiled town like Meric now seemed like many of late; worried, anxious, and paranoid at the slightest suspicion. "Shit, Corrin, I don't know for sure. Don't shake up the town yet." Nearly seconds later, a small trio of enforcers arrived on the scene, approaching the duo sitting on the sidewalk. One moved an uneasy Chuck to the left of the town hall, while one began to chatter with a strangely composed and calm Corrin. "Name and business, sir." One officer requested in a powerful voice. "C-Chuck... Chuck Marlborough, Marl's Smithing." "Alrighty, now putting this bluntly; what in the hell were you thinking. Shouting a bunch of hooey like that that in a public place can get you hung." "Might sound stupid, but I get my info from that Corrin fellow. He's a mighty smart one, that Corrin." "So you're willing to risk your head for that kid and his wild theories?" "Guess so, officer." "Just a thought, but I'd keep quiet around this town if you know what's good for 'ya. These townspeople will go into a fit if they hear about shit like this." Chuck Marlborough, despite his name, was a slim frame in a husky family. His hair waved to his left, blond and shimmering in the sunlight, with a cowlick on his near right. The man was the envy among the town, carrying bright blue eyes that dug into a woman's soul, and the straightest set of teeth in Meric. Though he was a beautiful face around town, his skull sat as thick as a boulder at times, and he was certainly no match for Corrin's impressive intellect. Because of this, Chuck often listened to and believed in Corrin, accentuating the man's already high intelligence to exorbitant levels. To Chuck, Corrin wasn't just another friend or acquaintance, he was the most likable character in all of Order. On the other end of the spectrum, another officer stood in confusion while conversing to a certain Corrin Blackswort, who was as calm and unharmed as he'd ever been before. "Mhmm, okay, so you're spreading these rumors around town, right?" Another officer said. "Absolutely- though they're not rumors, sir, they'd be one hundred percent fact." " No no, you know that they're completely false, otherwise you woulda' come to us." " Don't take it personal, officer, but I really don't want to waste my time with the police if I don't have to." " Well it seems you'll be wasting more time with us, Corrin, so your mission failed terribly." " I don't call spending time with my beloved chief failure, officer." " Now listen here: if you make another wise-crack, kid, I will whoop your a-" The officer snarked, grinding his teeth. " -Please, Corrin, follow us, and ignore our fellow officer, he's had a rough morning." The third officer butted, exchanging annoyed glances with the other. " My pleasure." The trio of enforcers treaded along the sidewalk, motioning for both Corrin and Chuck to follow. Evasively, Chuck came at a crawling pace, hanging at the border of the sidewalk and the grassy terrain beside it. Corrin, in opposition, merrily followed the group as if a parade, lightly humming an inaudible tune along the journey. Within a few minutes, down the block lied the police station, encompassed in hundreds of chipped bricks and glazed heavily with mortar in-between. Two open windows penetrated the solid station wall, revealing a long line of confused and disorderly citizens waiting at the information desk inside the building. Outside, the west wall was lined with horses, each stationed with metal chains implanted onto the grass beneath it. The Meric downtown police station was a successful one, often looked upon as the epitome of equality, truth, peace, and justice. Chuck was horrified at the thought of it. " Corrin, I'd never-you'll cover me, right? I didn't do nothing wrong, right?" " Don't you fret a single second, Chuck. You'll be out in a blink." Corrin replied, comforting the frightened peer. " Good, 'cause I did nothing! Don't need to do time when I hasn't a crime, right?" " ...right..." One of the officers to Corrin's right nudged Chuck into the entrance of the building, passing through the hall of the department's various achievements, awards, and wooden plaques built in their honor. Chuck tensed up as they came closer to the information desk, beginning to alleviate stress by breathing out through his mouth. Corrin glanced at the fearful oaf. " Calm yourself, Chuck, nothing to worry." " Yep, yeah-nothing but jail-time..." Finally, the group cut a right turn, leading straight to the Chieftain's office. The trio of officers stood guard at the doorway, awaiting the duo's entrance into the room. Chief Walter sat nonchalantly, sipping his morning tea and enjoying the morning sun's warmth through his open window. Chunk stumbled in first, clamping his hind on the seat ahead of the chief's desk in haste. Corrin followed, walking in before taking his seat as well. Walter gave a genuine smile at Corrin, who was happy to see the old fellow again. Walter pushed his wooden cup aside. " Ah, nothing like a morning of sunshine to warm up your day, right?" " Nothing like it, Walt." Corrin said, brushing his right hand through his matted hair. " Mhmm. So tell me, what brought you and your friend here on a fine day like this?" " Chief, to be completely honest, I didn't come of my own intentions." " Ah, lemme' guess, you got apprehnd'd for another conspiracy, and this kid got caught in your little web." Walter smiled, pointing mildly at a confused Chuck. " Walter, it's not a theory this time! I tried n' telling your little deputies, and they brought me here!" " Mmm... tell me, what's this idea of your's that's 'not a theory'." Corrin pulled himself from his seat, silently flipping a chalkboard from the left wall of the office, revealing it's green underside. " Chuck, see a chalk around here?" " M...yep, over there." Chuck pointed at the white entity's hidden location. Corrin fetched the chalk from the dust-ridden floor, beginning to illustrate the map of Inamorta before Medusa and her forces invaded. " Alright, so in what order did Medusa destroy all those countries?" Walter corrected his sitting posture, shifting up in his wooden chair. " ...Spearton... then what was left of that Pertland coalition... then the Magikill, right?" " Correct, so she attacked a strong location, then a weaker one, then finished off her attack by attacking their strongest. Now if we correlate that in terms of ''OUR ''empire..." Corrin yanked his shirt sleeve down, erasing the board's contents with the tee's cloth. He began to write again, this time a map of the Order Empire during Medusa's reign. "Cor, are you insa-" "...so first Medusa attacked Westwind, right?" "Yeah, I guess." "...then the tiny city of Norchester..." "Mhmm..." "...Now where would she attack next?" "Remember, the ''strongest would be attacked last." Chuck butted in, gaining confidence. "..." "...Meric, oh for god's sake Corrin, do you think I should believe this bullshit?" Walter glared, dumbstruck. "That's not all, Walt, I have something else..." Walter pressed his hand up against his forehead, relieving the sting of Corrin's metaphorical torture. The chief pulled himself from his seat. "Corrin, that's enough. I've known you a while, and I'll let you walk out with both your hands, but I will not stand for this. Medusa has our fucking continent in chains, and you think she'd use a strategy like that to wipe out her last rival? What good would that strategy do anyways?" "What if it's so simple that no one'd believe it? No person would build a strategy based on a pre-set algorithm, would they? Its counter-intuitive, but even then, why wouldn't she attack us? She's trying to get our guard down." "No. Hell ''no. You know you had one too much to drink last night, and now it's ''ALL ''rushing back to you. I heard that the town discussion was a fucking wreck. Just go get some rest. I'll let you walk out without much trouble if you don't bring it up again." Chuck rose as well. "He's not telling you any rambling, no talltale, no nothing! He's being straight and honest and that bitch Medusa is-" "No, Chuck, let him be." Corrin butted. Corrin picked himself up from his chair, gently nudging Chuck towards the door with him. The man didn't budge. Chuck might've not been the sharpest, but he was surely the most stubborn when an idea caught his fancy. "Let him be? This man's mocking your nature, and you wanna let him be?" Corrin sighed, before briskly strolling out of the Chieftain's office. Chuck turned back towards his comrade, frowning at the man's weak attitude towards the idea's rejection. He pondered a moment, still staring back at the hallway that Corrin had taken his leave from just moments ago. "You'll see, chief, you'll see that Corrin was right all along, and then you'll be sorry!" Chuck cried, glancing back at the chief. "Boy, if I'm wrong, Medusa can have my head on a stick for all I care. Ain't a soul invading Meric if they know what's good for 'em." Walter laughed, taking another sip from his morning tea. Afraid of being left behind, the young Corrin hurtled through the police department, zooming towards his partner hastily. Finally reaching him, an out-of-breath Chuck exchanged brief conversation. "What'd you do that for, Cor?" "Sometimes you've gotta let a man be, Chuck. He's got a busy few days ahead, the blissful ignorance will help a bit." "He'd played you for a fool, that's no man in my books." Continuing in their stroll, Corrin glanced over towards Chuck, positioned to his right. "Since when did you ever read, Chuck?" "Cor, if all you said about Medusa's any true, we need'a buckle down by sunset." Corrin, still walking, stared down at the cobble pavement ahead of him. "Well you of anybody know'd that I'm no liar, Chuck." "If I thought you's a liar, I wouldn't risk a day o' jail for you otherwise." Spontaneously, Chuck yanked a quill from his left pocket, while hunting voraciously on his right. "...what are you doing..." After a couple moments of confused anticipation, Chuck popped a small, handheld jar of ink from the contents of his pant-pocket. "You're an illiterate, Chuck, how you gonna write?" Chuck glanced back at Corrin, annoyed. "Gonna hand't off to you, smart one." The thin man passed the pair of utensils to the individual at his left, the latter tearing the cap from the jar of black substance. Corrin paused for a moment, curious. " Now how am I supposed to write out here?" " By using your hands, dumbass." " Oh- I mean standing up." Chuck pondered for a moment, a sharp bitterness growing between his teeth. Quickly, he changed his mind, procuring his items from Corrin's full hands. " ...what was that for?" Corrin asked, his hands empty of any writing utensil. " We'll write when we 'git there." " ...where are we going anyhow?" " You'll know when we 'git there, Cor." The pair eventually reached their destination within a dozen or so minutes, with little event in-between. Meric grew excessively quiet, as if foreshadowing the night of death ahead. Along the sidewalk stood a hunched, crooked structure that bore it's age visibly. Every post holding the open-air facility shown signs of wear, creaking and tilting at the slightest touch. As decrepit as it was, it was home... and Chuck's smithy during the day. Oh, it was one of the few places in Meric that you could find both a neat and tidy bed, and the severed head of a war axe, in the same living space. Chuck led Corrin into the home, latching open the thin wooden door by it's handle and swinging it outward to reveal it's contents. Chuck's assistant, Greens, greeted the two at the doorway leisurely. " Well how's you doing, Chuck?" Greens smiled, glancing back and forth between the pair, yet pretending to be unaware of Corrin's presence. " Just fine, Greeny. This's Corrin Blackswort, you know him." Greens pondered for a moment, attempting to place a face on a well-known authority among the city-folk. Something lit up in his eyes, a childish, curious wonderful fire that burned in his eyes when he recognized Corrin. " You... you're that one guy, you're Corrin? Aren't you that guy that yelled at someone last night for giving their opinion on Medusa?" " Okay, I didn't- how do you know that?" " Word spreads fast around Meric, sir." " Greeny, respect the man, he wouldn't yell at a soul unless they deservn' it!" Chuck replied, embarrassed by his employee. " Welp, that's not what I heard..." Greens walked back behind the counter, plopping himself onto the bar stool behind the stone divider. "So what can I do for you boys?" Chuck leaned himself onto the countertop, still eyeing Greens. "We need to bunker down for the night." "Great for you... wait, what'd you do this time? Another bank rob-" "Green, shut... I just want Smithy to fetch me a few swords, that's all." Greens rolled his eyes, proceeding to walk into the unknown room behind him, it's events behind held behind two thick stone walls. A second passed, and the room's door shut tightly. " Chuck, what are we doin'?" Corrin asked, dumbfounded. " You'll see, man, you're usually more patient than I am!" " Well, when Medusa's gonna have your head on a stick by tah'morow, you don't have much time to lose." The door swung open, and Greens peered from behind the rough-cut wall. " Smithy wants to see 'ya." Corrin scratched his head. " Now who in the hell are we talking to now?" Chuck looked back, already moving towards the open doorway. " We're going to see a smithy with a blade of steel." Chapter 2 / "The Smithy with a Blade of Steel" A scent of eager sweat and hearty ash radiated from the room, reaching far beyond the walls of the small establishment. Sunlight beamed from outside, planting itself firmly onto the wooden floor with it's heavenly aura. Sawdust was scattered along the window-sill, and Corrin could even taste the same unrefined flavor of chewing tobacco in the air. The consumable's stench sickened the old man, who was already laced with a past of addiction and cancer just years prior. A wooden rocking chair sat at the corner of the room, emitting hollow creaks intermittently. In it's place sat a burly, husky man, one you'd think to be drunken and careless at five o'clock in the afternoon. Even in his old and wrecked state, his age was reflected perfectly in his craft. Dozens of swords, battle-axes, tomahawks, hatchets, and anything else fitting your fancy lined his walls, carved and cut so fine that a single hair could be easily sliced in two. For he served the Order, and with his arsenal their enemies would sever at mere sight. " So what can I have ya' boys for?" The man bellowed. Corrin was skimming the walls around his person for a better understanding, as Chuck chatted with the blacksmith. " Hmm, have any cleavers on 'ya?" " Phh, you need more than that! You aren't gonna get a ''squirrel with one of those!" " How about two Stilettos?" " Trying to skimp out on me, Chuck?" "George, just cut me some slack! I'm not tryin' to bring down all of Inamorta here!" "...Then what are 'ya trying to do?" The smithy grinned. Corrin rolled his eyes, leaning against the rear smithy wall for leverage. He grimly laughed. "You want me to explain it to him?" "It's your theory, Corrin..." "Well I'm not explaining it." Chuck sighed, before giving the same spiel as before. What a monotonous task it was. Smithy stared at the table beside him, pondering. "You know what..." Smithy began. "Hmm?" "...Corrin, you're either the craziest person I met, or the most intelligent. Can't put my cards on either." "So what should we take that as?" "Mm... I must be hallucinating again, somebody musta' tampered with my wine last night..." "Annnddd?" "Well, Chuck, I think your friend's onto somethin'." Smithy sighed a breath of defeat, smearing his greasy left palm across his face. "So I'm not a delusional nut?" Corrin asked, smirking. "Darn right you're a nut... but I do believe Medusa's coming down on us soon." Chuck interrupted, "Then what are you gonna do about it?" Smithy paused again, this time indulged in his own thought. He rose from his rocking chair, opening the pantry to his left. The cabinet's contents out of view, the pair patiently waited, though their curiosity burned with a fiery passion. What sounded like pans, glasses, plates, and silverware clashed up against one another in the search for the desired item. Smithy's hand retreated from the pantry, revealing a short wooden rod. "I said we needed a weapon, Smithy." "Boss, you wanted one, you're gettin' one." "Well then what the hell is that?' Smithy cleared his throat, beginning to chant in inaudible whispers. "Gognohs... tramanica... dyfnes..." Meric's air grew crisper, sharper, every word rolling from his tongue seamlessly. One could taste each chant's execution perfectly, could feel the power growing beneath their feet. "Sithos... magnos... bahrog..." The staff sputtered to light, sparking in blue flames along it's length. Smithy's eyes rolled to the back of his head, holding the rod out in front of him. "Diganro... fignahn... excalius..." Slowly but surely, the staff then extended, soon growing to five feet in length. The blue flames roared in ecstacy, engorged in the power that writhed through Smithy's hands. "...TELOS TOU CHAOUS!" Smithy and the staff simultaneously combusted, leaving only their silhouette in the spectating pair's view. Blinding light shot out from the explosion, scouring the building with it's bright glow. Screeching cries drove across the blacksmith, twirling and dancing and crying and laughing, filling the air with their vibrant emotional aromas. Chuck was captivated by the combination, for even though he was the smith's boss, it seemed every visit to his own business felt like a trip to the largest toy-store on the face on Inamorta. In steep contrast, Corrin could not stand it for another moment. "Holy hell, Chuck, what in the lord's name?!" "What? Smithy's just having some fun!" "Boy, I bet we're scaring Greens out there to death!" On the other side of the wall, Greens was still reading the evening newspaper. "Nah, he's a trooper! I'd be worrying about the next explosion!" Chuck cried out in laughter. Corrin ducked, cowering in the corner of the small room for protection. Finally, though, the spirit's tyrades began to simmer slightly, tired and tame after the century's run. "...Wait, what explosion?" Silence persisted, more pervasive than before. "Hmph, oh, nevermind, I was thinkin' of a different spellcast..." Chuck's mind wandered off, disappointed. Smithy's large form emerged from the dying fog, now carrying a long and proper Magikill staff. Corrin was first to insert his opinion. "All that for a simple staff? We're evading capture from Medusa here, and you're gonna kill us before we even get a tomorrow with that crazy tomfoolery." "Hmph, you really don't know your magic, Corrin..." Chuck smiled. "And now you're the smart one? This day's the strangest I've had in a long while." Smithy silently handed Corrin the sceptre, quietly admiring his work before parting with it. Corrin analysed the work, it's every intricacy, keeping it under his naked eye. Even if he was annoyed with the process, he was so intrigued by the final result that the sting from before had faded away in favor of a more appealing distraction. Chuck snapped him back into reality. "Smithy, ignore Corrin, he's my special 'wittle butterfly." Chuck poked. "Oh shut it, sir single-and-afraid-to-mingle." Chuck blushed, "T' least my wife ain't holding her own funeral at 52." Corrin's grin faded, his eyes beaming at Chuck with intensity of one thousand dying suns. Smithy quietly exited the situation. Corrin meanwhile adopted a flaming aura, intoxicated by rage and chaos. His hatred was so pure, so raw, that not even Medusa could face it alone. "...what did you just say to me?" Chuck eyes widened. "Sir, I just- I didn't mean-" Corrin moved towards him, broadening his shoulders and stiffening his grip on the staff. "Say once more of Martha and you'll be just as dead as she is!" Chuck gulped. "Corrin, I stepped my boundaries, I know..." "...You know, for someone in need of guidance, you've been the biggest pain since I brought you along." "Corrin, we have the weapon now- we can just go and get some fresh a-" Corrin poked the sceptre at Chuck's chest. "You want fresh air now? After you insulted my beloved?" "Corrin, I didn't mean it to be-" Corrin was infuriated, bursting at the seems. His wife was everything to him until her untimely demise, found hours later by her fellow comrades during an ill-fated trading expedition. To add to the excruciating loss, the only evidence found at the sight was Martha's bloodied knife and the severed body of a snake. "Never would I ever do such a thing to you!" "L-listen, I'm a vulture, I know! I'm a pigheaded, lonely, cowardly, idiotic mess! Just let me be, Corrin!" Corrin snarled. "...GEFSI THANAT-" Smithy bursted through the argument, shutting Corrin's mouth with bruting force. With great struggle, Smithy overcame Corrin and kept him from finishing. "What the hell, Corrin? Smithy, what was that?" "...Gefsi... than-" Smithy repeated. "Chuck, that's a lethal spell." Corrin turned back to the door, pumped full of adrenaline. He stormed out of the building, staff still in-hand, leaving the three employees to their own doings. "Ya' need to talk with your friend now, that spell could've killed both of us." Smithy replied. "Do you think he knew what he was saying? He's never worked with magic in his life, why, he's afraid of a forecast, how could he whip up a spellcast?" Smithy put that idea up on the table, almost immediately setting off red flags to the man. "Greens, close that door there for me..." "Alrighty..." Greens replied from the other room before performing the task before getting back to his station. Chuck peered at the open doorway from Smithy's room. "Why'd you do that?" "...This might just be me again, but I think we're being watched." Chuck's expression transformed into a delightfully strange combination of terror, confusion, and anxiety. "By who? Why? We wouldn't- what did we do? Is it because of the weapons?" "You can almost smell it in the air, there's something here... that's how Corrin could know these spells..." "...and be so angry?" "But Magikill haven't traveled Meric proper in decades, how could-" Smithy snatched a blade from his collection, motioning for Chuck to do the same. There was an obvious tension in the air that wasn't there before, as if an immediate danger was afoot. "...What if Medusa came early?" Dozens of small skeletal fists arise in-between the floor boards, tearing the flooring apart quickly. Dozens more of them grope at Smithy and Chuck's legs and feet, scrapping the bony fingers through their bare flesh. The sudden pain was unbearable. "MARROWKAI!" Smithy jammed the large blade right down the center of an attacking fist, while Chuck ran for a weapon of his own. Greens hopped onto the counter in the other room, swinging his tax letters to and fro to ward off the demons. Methodically Smithy continued to hack and slash, tearing away at any intended attack. Chuck was being pulled under by half a dozen undead hands, his hopes of evading capture thinning rapidly. "Smithy, assistance!" Chuck yelled, speaking over the clatter and cling of human bones. The blacksmith swung his blade swiftly, crunching it's base into the arms of two or three rising hands. Other limbs took notice, driving their attention towards new flesh. The bones rushed towards Smithy, before driving their screw-like claws into Smithy's skin. Most lost their leverage scrapping off his arm and falling back into the earth. But some held, and those remaining were diced by the blade of their would-be victim. "What in the hell are these things?" Chuck squawked. "Well there's more than one of them, that's for sure!" Greens yelled from the other room. Smithy turned back, glancing at the open doorway that overlooked the Blacksmith lobby. "Come out here, Greeny!" "No, I think I'm good here!" Chuck gripped his weapon tightly, still waiting for Smithy's command. They both knew they'd have to kill or be killed, though they didn't know which would happen first. "Get that door for me, Chuck." Chuck hurtled towards the back door, afraid of what sat behind it. Slowly the door creaked open, and the cool evening air rushed into the establishment. "Alright; is Corrin out there?" "Too dim to see, Smith." "Well, whatycha' see?" "Nothing." Chuck was almost dissapointed. Almost. Within a blink of eye, white fog smothered and masked the night sky. Chalky red dust shot out in-between the cracks of the mist to form a wall of gaseous substance that hindered Chuck's view. Mortified, he stumbled back from the doorway to the opposite wall, wielding both a sharp tool and horrified expression. "CHUCK!" A black shadow rushed towards Chuck, clad in a dangling black cloak and matched with a crimson winged scythe. Ghastly cries came from the being, whatever it was. It wanted to be left alone just the same. Nevertheless, it required a soul to satisfy it's master. Chuck's forearms jolted backward, slamming into the wall behind him. Sharp, stabbing pains came up through his body, racing throughout his joints in vicious hunger and angst. There wasn't enough energy left in Chuck's being to cry, but his eyes teared up terribly as he struggled with his inner reaper. "...GRAAAAGHH... Smih... get..." Chuck managed to wave towards the door with what strength he had left. Smithy slammed the open door and used his bare mass as a barrier, hoping to ward the Marrowkai from entering and eliminating them three. Luckily, the smith's body deterred any thought in any lurking spirit that wanted to enter. Well- for the time being. "Damn it, why can't you come one day without needin' stitches and a set of bandages." Smithy chuckled, lightening the mood. Chuck readjusted himself, the reaper's effect dizzying and blurring into a transparent wisp. "Just help me up, will 'ya?" With Smithy's aid, Chuck composed his stance, and his mind fully lapsed back into reality. "Chuck'm, you good?" "I feel violated and my knees haven't burned so much since that'd logging expedition in 'o thirty... I'm fine, yeah." Chuck shrugged off whatever pain was left at that point. "Then let's see you kick some ass, Chuck." Smithy smirked. Chuck raised his weapon, and he too grinned just the same. "...phew... well, I don't see why not." Chapter 3 / "A Mage with a Staff of Bone" "Aisi charai!" A charred and lifeless voice blasted through the door, sweeping wind and paper from the wooden floorboard. "Goddamnit Chuck, open that door!" Chuck swung the door open from the side, slightly mortified by the scream before. Smithy bolted towards the skeletal figure, and their bodies met with a clang of metal and bone. The Marrowkai hissed sharply, it's beating heart shivering as the wand forced Smithy back a couple of feet through. Chuck rushed outside but was hit with the first beam of red light. His body was sent flying back into the building, leaving the hodgepodge of races to comb the line of death once again. Now away from all distractions, the Marrowkai slung his wand to meet Smithy's blade, whispering some cursed murmur like it was just the wind around him. "Well, aren't you swift?" Smithy backed a length away, releasing the tightly locked clash of weapons. There he went with a low slice that cut from right to left, then back upwards into the air towards the mage. Smithy was centimeters from severing the Marrowkai's heart with one swoop. The Marrowkai growled, launching an attack of his own to satisfy the fierce battle effort. "Trochos ton Vasani!" he cried. With a slash of his wand, a wheel of lightning rippled towards Smithy. Another split second rolled past and the blacksmith managed to sidestep the attack before trying to land an attack of his own in retaliation. This time he was caught mid-act by the Marrowkai's wand. The Marrowkai then knocked the sword from Smithy's grasp and just as quickly slung a spear of lightning from the base of the wand, striking Smithy in the chest. Air escaped his lips, as even though the projectile vanished as soon as it came, the pain haunted Smithy greatly. "Mhm-f... Corrin..." Corrin was forced into combat, but without a second thought, he darted towards the Marrowkai like a predator and led a barrage of attacks with his blade. Corrin clumsily cut and slashed and stabbed in every imaginable direction and form, and only one was able to leave a cut on the Marrowkai's heart. But Corrin was far too winded now. This wound would have to be sufficient, or both of their lives were in a world of hurt. Thump, thump, thump. Blood jumped from the Marrowkai's artery in small spurts, but that was run-of-the-mill. Thump, thump, thump. The skeleton's jaw creaked open a hint. ''Thump, thump, '''clink. A vein popped open on his heart's left side, shooting a constant stream of purple-red liquid out onto the dirt. The Marrowkai leaned to his side. That crimson shroud of mist that hung around its eyes and mouth disappeared. For a few moments, the body of the Marrowkai held its position, possibly clinging onto any last sliver of life it had left. His body collapsed, his skull rattled, before its entire composition crumbled and only a pile of bones were left at the pair's feet. "...Well, that's that." Chuck sighed. He was still a bit winded from the whole event. "-one...a hit to the heart? That did it?" Smithy coughed, before wiping a bit of blood from his chin. "Well, thinking about it now, he might have been a strong one, but in the sense of armor he was definitely ''barebones." "Shit... wow, that was actually terrible..." Smithy tried masking the dumb smile growing on his lips with a wheeze. "...Anywho, off to the town it is then." Chapter 4 / "On the Hunt in the Dead of Night" It seemed to be an unspoken code around the city of Meric that dusk was not a time to be messed with. Maybe it was the darkness, the blackness sweeping the sky, only highlighted by the gray-tone winds that passed through the cold fall air. Maybe it was the tingle, that shrill fear of something so invisible to you, yet so close to you. Maybe it was simply the fear of the unknown. Nobody could put their finger on it, but the entire city followed the wind's silent words when they close their front doors, not to be let out until the simmer of the morning's sun. And that night was not any different. "Well, if you was a Corrin, where would you be hiding at?" Smithy said as the two walked down a cobble path running through Meric. "...A building?" The street running down the hill was paralleled by rows of markets, shops, and workshops. Practically stacked on top of one another, these bustling day-attractions would simmer down by night. They too were completely dead by evening's call. "Aww, well shit Chuck, thank you for that. Who woulda thunk." "It's-well, if he's really under the spell of a Marrowkai or something like it, why'd he be out here? Wouldn't it attract some sorta attention?" "Fair enough, sure, but who's gonna come out at this time of night?" Reaching the bottom of the decline, the road split off into a sort of intersection, specked with cobblestone roads that pointed off into different subdivisions, trade routes, and other towns in the region. While it wasn't exactly the most happening place in Meric, it was definitely one of the most well-lit when night came around. Lanterns packed themselves into just about anywhere you cared to look, and then some. Downtown was surely a sight to see, but now was not the time for admiring the view. Across the center of the intersection laid a complex of garden depots, warranting the lush flowers potted on the windowsill of each establishment. Each of the buildings had been around for years since then, competing for business and bickering in the afternoon over who stole the other's customers. Those couple of shops were ghosts of their former selves, completely dimmed of lights and devoid of the antsy souls that brought it so much personality the afternoons before. But the strangest part of it all, came from one of these depots by the name of Godiva Gardenworks. And it was very odd indeed. "...Smith," Chuck asked, "would'v Godiva leave her door open like that?" "...Nah, I know that people around here aren't too worried about crooks and shit, but that's not right. Somebody's in there." Smithy squinted a bit into the room, but from what must've been 20 feet away, it didn't look like much of anything. Turning back to Chuck, he said, "Corrin perhaps?" "You're out yer fucking mind if you think I'm going in there." Chuck was kidding himself if he thought Smithy would do such a thing at this time of night. Even an idiot like Chuck knew that. Alone in his search, Chuck crossed the cobble-laden intersection and passed on over to the gardener's shanty windows. Not a candle was lit inside, and all that was visible through the glass was a thick sheet of condensation and fog that enshrined the rest of the town. Quickly glancing into the shack to see if there was any use in checking at all, Chuck looked back at Smithy to no avail. Across the road Smithy was practically cemented to the ground, his work boots burrowed into the stone and his arms firmly crossed. Chuck looked back around at the opening to the building and called. "Cor'! Are you in there? Corrin?" No answer. Chuck swooped down and snatched a rock from the cobble path, putting it at his feet to hold the door open. Feeling safe enough to move in, he crept into the dim shadows of the gardener's depot. Smithy watched as Chuck's shadow slowly engulfed his figure, disappearing into the black maw of the building. On the other end of the spectrum, Chuck continued on his excersion, passing by counters with pots and many a plant, although you couldn't tell a single thing about them in the dreary darkness. Small patches of light reflected onto the floor of the depot, hiding in the crevices of the wooden floorboards that creaked to the touch. Passing around all of the nooks and crannies of the shack, Chuck quivered. He was not accustomed to the night's cold, Chuck was always a softie like that, but it felt different on that evening. As Chuck dipped farther and farther into the room's depths, the cold surrounded him, reddening his nose and nipping at his hands and feet. The rock at the door, now a half a dozen feet behind him, slowly tumbled out of the way, and the wooden door shook to a close. Chuck jerked his head back in the freezing room to great alarm. "...Shit... S-m, damn t-the cold, SMITHY!" Smithy was still standing in the middle of the cobble intersection, and through the heavy door he couldn't hear a thing. Why Chuck trusted that Smithy would be good backup, I have no idea. Chuck looked back towards the end of the store, blocked off by the storage closet shrouded in a deep fog. He continued his walk down the length of the building, the fog encompassing his figure, the cold dipping into the single digits, and the sky turned an unphased, unwavering black. No more was any sort of light peering through the windows, only a sheet of dead air and space. Chuck was freezing, confused, and bewildered. Where was the end? Was there an end? Why is Smithy such a prick? He turned to the entrance of the building. Darkness. Only the outline of the door was visible, though it felt miles away. The building wasn't a very big one, Godiva Billert was never one of wealth, but she kept afloat with a modest lifestyle and strong bloodline. She was a grandmother of 3 now, but Godiva was of good health and held down the quaint little shack well for a lady of her age. But there was no way in hell that Chuck could've walked 50 something feet into that place and not hit the other end of the building. Chuck suddenly froze. He felt something. He was not alone. The outline of the door slowly began to shift. More and more, the outline consumed the darkness, growing in height and contorting into an unrecognizable shape. Chuck tried his best to move, but his bones stood still, stuck in a terrified state, forced to watch the creature melt into its form. A figure materialized out of the silhouette, donned in a black cloak. The shape of a scythe appeared in its left hand, welding into its hand, almost becoming part of the creature. Was Chuck dead? Couldn't be. He still had his arms, his legs, his brain, whatever little bit of it that remained intact, and all of his organs. No. It wasn't death. Not yet, anyways. The being dashed towards him, letting out a beastial cry as it flew towards Chuck at uncalculable speeds. Chuck swallowed his fear and finally began to run the other way. There was no chance he could outrun the creature for long. The being, oh, how it cried, wanting to be let free yet knowing it served a higher master and wouldn't see the light of day. It too was afraid of the darkness, but what could it do? Only pursue. Run, it must. Kill, it must. Then, only then, will it be given the chance to rest. But Chuck pushed on just as the creature did. No, he wasn't that fast, he was Chuck for god's sakes, but he ran. The reaper was quickly gaining ground, closing in the distance with great haste. Chuck continued and continued until there were no more tears left to run down his cheeks. The reaper rose his scythe, in one single motion it slashed its blade towards Chuck. Then a flash. The blinding light sputtered, casting away the darkness. Within seconds, the light disappeared just as quick as it came, and Chuck was stuck right back outside the gardening depot. Smithy was slamming his fists on the door of the building when he caught sight of his friend behind him. "What in the shit happened to you, Chucky? Did you-" Smithy stumbled a bit, disjointed by the magic hocus-pocus that comes along with this sort of tale. Corrin sat next to Chuck. He was scratched to shit, but he was in one piece. Chuck turned to his side to greet him. Corrin stood up, still holding the small wand from earlier, and sighed. "Let's just get the fuck out of here." Chapter 5 / "Good Morning, Chaos Swarming" "You know, it'd be a hell of a view, if it weren't for the current shit goin' on." Smithy smiled. He was right, the breeze was nice that evening. Corrin ignored him, still in a huff over the trouble he'd got the trio into. By now they had long gone seen the last of the small intersection of Meric, heading back down the hill to get back to the Blacksmith shanty and prepare for the morning's bad tidings. The view was the last thing on Corrin's mind. Chuck glanced over at Corrin. "Corrin-I'm sorry I said that shit back there, it was just that, y'know? Complete dogshit. I was out of my mind, I tell you." "I've got more to worry about than a petty insult, Chuck. We don't have much time, n' frankly, I don't give a shit." As Corrin said himself, Medusa's forces were already on the move, and by midnight, they'd be on Meric's doorstep. Time was running out.Category:Story Category:Order Category:Chaos Category:The Great Southern Saga Category:SpodermanAlwaysCan